


Rage

by KathPetrovaDiary



Category: Formula E RPF
Genre: Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Set Hong Kong E-prix 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 22:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18061193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathPetrovaDiary/pseuds/KathPetrovaDiary
Summary: André was on a mission. One to find Sam Bird to be exact.Sam and André find each other after the Hong-Kong E-Prix incident. Jev has to keep them apart.





	Rage

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve no words for this race.  
> That win should have been André’s.
> 
> Dedicated to everyone suffering with me.

André was on a mission. One to find Sam Bird to be exact. After media duties had ended he’d been walking up and down the pitlane, hoping to find the Virgin driver. Sam took away his first win in Formula E. Hell, he took away a win in general. He hadn’t won anything in so long. André deserved that win. He’d fought for it, worked day and night on the simulator to get a better feel of the track, helped the team improve the balance of the TeCheetah.

Anger was boiling in the pit of his stomach which was slowly turning into pure rage. Someone bumped into him as he passed the Virgin box for what seemed to be the tenth time. He was about to apologize when a familiar voice reached his ears.  
“André, I was looking for you!”  
Sam Bird looked up at him with big eyes.  
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your rage.”  
André kept his mouth shut, giving the Brit the chance to explain himself.  
“I was too eager. I went in too deep, locked the brakes. I’m really sorry.”  
The anger hadn’t gone away, but André decided it was better if he simply accepted the apology. He had messed up in the past too.  
“Don’t mind it,” he said with a forced smile. “We all make mistakes, no?” He held out his hand for Sam to shake.  
The Brit took it with a smirk, tension visibly dropping from his shoulders as he began to relaxe.  
“Yeah!”, he agreed. “You were defending dirty anyway so there was no way avoiding it.”  
“Come again?”, André couldn’t believe his own ears. “You’re saying I’m out thanks to my defending?”  
Sam nodded with a grin: “Kinda obvious, no? I mean you’ve been a dirty driver since you got here.”  
André smiled at the Brit, pulling his hand back. He sucked in his bottom lip, trying to control his anger. ‘Screw it!’

“Yeah, fuck you.”  
He grabbed Sam by the collar of his racing suit, pushing him up against the Envision Virgin Racing Team’s pitbox.  
“André, what the fuck?”, Sam whined as the taller German kept him above the ground. “Lemme go, man!”  
“Not so tough now, huh?”  
André held him up with one hand ready to lay a punch on him. Sam closed his eyes pulling away the best he could.

“André!”  
The familiar French accent made André halt his action. He checked over his shoulder to see Jean-Eric run toward them.  
“Have you lost your mind?”, his teammate said in a hushed voice, placing a hand hesistantly on the German’s shoulder. “Let him go.”  
“I can’t!”, André snapped back at Jean-Eric, his gaze still on Sam.  
“He cost me my race win! My first. I did so well, I deserved that win…” His voice cracked midway as anger slowly left him with the realization of the current situation. It hurt as hell to have lost such an opportunity.  
“You should have won,” Jean-Eric said with a nod. He forced André to look at him by laying a palm against his cheek. “But hitting Sam won’t change the outcome of the race.”  
Blue locked with brown, words kept silent but a message was spoken nonetheless.  
André let Sam go who fell back on his feet with a thud.  
“I’m so sorry, André!”, the Brit tried again. Jean-Eric placed a hand on André’s chest pushing him slightly back before taking his place opposite Sam.  
“You remember what happened in Paris three years ago.” There was no emotion in Jean-Eric’s voice as he recalled the fights between them back in his Virgin days. “Walk away, Sam, before I change my mind.”  
The Brit nodded before walking off inbetween the boxes.

Jean-Eric turned to André who held his head in his hands.  
“I’m fucking cursed or something, Jev,” he whispered just loud enough for his teammate to hear.  
Jean-Eric threw his arms around his friend with a sad smile, hugging him tightly. “At least we’re cursed together,” he joked.  
A small chuckle escaped André who burried his nose in Jean-Eric’s neck.  
They stood there for a while; Jean-Eric making small circles on André’s back. The German couldn’t have wished for a better friend at that moment.


End file.
